


Drifting Jordon

by Ash_Cassidy97



Category: Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Alpha stupid peoples, Cake, Cars, Food, Lots of Food, M/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Cassidy97/pseuds/Ash_Cassidy97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know that moment when a blond guy stands on your front door, looking like he recked your car and you say"come in?"</p><p>Yeah, I do that a lot</p><p>Puppy eyes lead to getting a bed and having to wash the puppy. Then you name the puppy and have to deal when Dom Toretto shows up and acts Alpha. Then cake happens.</p><p>This is what happens when you only watch the first movie and you desperately want more but can't find any. Then you rediscover your keyboard and FISH.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is based off a Charcter of mine that I'm actually publishing. So Jordon IS MIIIIIIINE. SO IS HE CAKE AND GOERGE. Sophia poped in on her own.
> 
> I own only the mentioned above. Dom and Brian are still trying to bury me for attempting to claim them.
> 
> OKAY, 20 FREAKING PEOPLE READ THIS AND NOBODY FELT LIKE HITTING KUDUS OR REVIEWING!!! I can not be that bad.

Chapter 1

“You’re a drifter?” I asked calmly. Which was amazing considering the well aimed shot gun in my face. Call me crazy, but me  not pleading for my life in the face death was an accomplishment. The guy holding the shotgun was someone I’d managed to piss off. Not so amazing, but nothing new on my “people skills” front.

“I heard you were refusing to supply to me.” Pack Alpha wanna be stepped up to intimidate me. His name was Kevin Leo and yes I refuse to sell to the mafia, like most sane people. Not that I’m completely sane or anything.

Backstory, I’m a mechanic that’s a complete drifter and car freak. I speak English, Spanish and Japanese. Although my Spanish is a little touchy, I just got back in Mexico after after 5 years in Japan. I grew up in the U.s. with a wiseass cracking ex-marine uncle and a wrench for a friend. The metal car instrument, just so we’re clear.

I just got back a week ago and already the mafia is at my front door. That hasn’t happened since I’ve lived with George Fox, my uncle. I’m Jordan Fox and normally it takes me two weeks for the bad guys to show. This can’t be good. Then again, when is the car raising game ever good unless you’re driving? Then again, people can try to kill you after or on the road. I came to Mexico to escape people trying to kill me.

I’m a drifter remember? Comes with the territory. Apparently people take offense to me kicking their asses. Cars always make a hellva lot more sense then their drivers. Yeah, that includes me.

That would be when a racer drove up. One look at the 6ft man with blond hair and all muscle the wanna be creepers vanished.

“Can you fix her?” The guy asked, straight to the point. I like him, he doesn’t have a shotgun aimed at my face. Ah, the simple joys of life. Then, I took a look at his car. The thing was shredded past the capacity that most people wanted to see. A challenge is what I saw!

“Depends if you’re willing to help.” I wasn’t ganna spend hours on this car if the driver was ganna bring her right back, just as smashed up as it was now. I wasn’t ganna wast my time on some nut-bolt who couldn’t even drive and didn’t feel the need to help with his own car. I define a true car person if they know their way around a car and coming to the shop is the last option on a very long list when, the car is seriously broken down.

“Of course I’ll help, prefer it!”  
“Excellent. Next question: do you want to sleep in the guest room?” My words seemed to confuse him. “Free of charge and some free meals.” Well, the guy was skinny.

“Why?” Another trait of true car people is knowing other people and being very paranoid of free handouts.

“You get shot in a motel room and I never get paid.” It was problemly  the only answer that he’d understand and kept me from looking like a wuss.

“Okay. When can we start?” The wariness retreated slightly.

“Work three hours, then brake for sleep and food. Not necessarily in that order.” 

“Sounds good.” As the guy hopped back into the driver’s seat, I remembered that I never exchanged names. Ah well, don’t push and trust slowly builds.  
$ $ $

Three hours later at about nine thirty we quite. I lead the way to the house, which wasn’t that far from the garage. Blondie, can’t think of a better name, had grabbed his bag from the car and had found the guest room per my instructions. I started making pasta for dinner and even set the red sauce out for him. I normally lock the red sauce up so it can’t take over the world with its evil plan, I don’t like red sauce. We both sat down and dug in without preamble. 

“You don’t say grace?” Blondie asked.

“I don’t like depending on somebody that I never met to bring miracles into my life. I’m sorry if that offends you. Um, by the way my name’s Jordan.” It was one of those things you say to guilt people into responding. Blondie took a moment to think and swallow my awesome food. “Don’t strain yourself on a fake name, buddy. Its just that my explanation of why you’re at my shop takes to long to use to use as a name. So, Blondie it is.” I said with a smirk. That’s another way to get people to talk.

“Brian.” The guy bit out.

“Okay then.” We had finished dinner by now with Brian trying not to appear as though he’s starving. As if the supposed to be tight T-shirt’s looseness on him didn’t give the act away. “Go get some sleep. We have to be up early tomorrow.”

“Let me help clean up first.” A gentleman and a racer, god he must be gay then. *Sigh*

We washed the dishes together. Then, we parted ways for shuteye. I wasn’t ganna jump a almost complete stranger when he was that down and was probably gay. I guessed that from how bad my luck always is. Anyway, I fell asleep quickly, worn out form working on the car and the whole mafia thing. I wish I could say the same for Brian.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FISH-kudus to anyone who knows what FISH means.

I was startled into awareness for no obvious reason. Then, I heard the thrashing from next door. Brian was in pain or something like that. I grabbed a knife and ran into the room next door. The knife was just incase Brian was getting attacked. Paranoia- remember a very important if one’s to survive their first rodeo in the car racing world.

As it so happens, Brian was having a nightmare, which another kind of torment altogether that most people have have at one point of another. Seriously, if you ain’t at least scared of one thing then you’re either stupid, suicidal, lying or dead. And me? I’m scared of mummies like for real and also not seeing what’s coming. Its a good thing that I’ve made my peace with that, almost, along time ago.

I walked over to Brian who had hunched against the wall, shaking with tension. I pulled him, gently, into a hug and held him there until the shudders died down.  I steered him to the bed and we both sat down.

“Want some food or  a drink?” I kept my voice soft but not in that tone people use when they think you’re about to break. That tone didn’t help or make everything go away and it just made that person feel like a wuss. Somehow creating more angst didn’t seem like a good plan. Brian nodded, keeping his head down.

I started talking  about cars. It was one of the only ways that I knew to get him to realize that I wouldn’t press the nightmare. I kept it up all the while to the kitchen then, I switched to food. I cooked pancakes and talked about french pastries. Somehow it worked and Brian relaxed and managed to eat a stack of pancakes, dripping in syrup. This was a good sign because, some people stopped eating during the self damnation period they had. It showed I didn’t need to get this guy to a shrink, yet.

“Feel like racing tonight?” I asked. “There’s a race going down underground and I have a couple of cars, if you’re interested.” If it was a dream involving a crash, Brian needed to get back in the car as soon as possible.

“It wasn’t about a car.” Brian, however, knew I was digging.

“Smart. Offer still stands. In the meantime, more work on the car?” Brian nodded.

That’s how we spent the day. We just hung out and worked on the car with my music playing in the background. Another thing, Brian didn’t car if the songs switched from Journey and Paramore to Avenged Sevenfold as long as it didn’t go into sappy love songs or the really angst filled ones either. Even then, he just asked if he could switch the station. It was if he thought I would kick him out in a heartbeat.

We were good until the mafia showed again. That kinda rained on the happy rainbow feelings we had going. They came on motorbikes. like can you get anymore cliche’? That’s when I noticed the guns.  Great, now I can almost call the cops.

“Brian, get inside. There’s a gun in the fridge. Get it and stay inside so I don’t need to worry about you dying.”

“I’m staying.” Another trait of car people is being damn stubborn.

They five guys came ever closer. Damn they brought the shot gun. I didn’t wait until they aimed it at my face again. I grabbed it and broke the guy’s nose with it in one clean motion. Then, I slammed it down on the wrists that had been stupid enough to draw guns. I wasn’t the chica you wanna mess with for the record. Brian had already managed to disarm two guys. You don’t last long in this world if you can’t throw a punch, is all I’m saying.

“I’m not selling to your boss, his people aimed a shotgun at my head. Also, matching leather jackets, really? You get that from like Grease? Get outta here!” I said firmly. They went, after revving their bikes a couple of times.

“Why are they bothering you?”

“I don’t sell parts to people who kill innocents. Also, I’ve a habit of pissing off the big Alpha types. My friends say that its my life’s work.” I shrugged modestly. “How’d you come to know what do when people with guns come after you?” I didn’t expect him to respond, I just wanted to evade further questions about myself.

“I used to be a cop before I helped out this guy . . .” He trailed off then, he fully comprehended the words he just uttered.

“You haven’t killed me or threatened me yet so I don’t care what your past is. Its what you do now that matters in my opinion. Also, I knew some cops that were cool as long as it was legal and nobody died.” I shrugged. “The people you tried to help found out that you were a cop and freaked, I take it.”

“Yeah, I was investigating them for ripping off truckers and I let them go but took the fall.” He muttered, probably think that if he already let some of it out, he might as well go the full distance.

“And you haven’t seen him since?” I asked, finally we were getting somewhere.

“No.” He answered.

“Okay then.” We just kinda stood there and watched the dying sun. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FISH. 'nuff said.

Chapter 3

It went on like that for the next month. The mafia left me alone and Brian helped me work on cars, besides his own. Brian’s own car was almost passible for something that you could tell was a car, not just some rusty wreck. Brian continued to have nightmares at least once a week and I continued to let him deal with it in his own time. I think it would have gone on like that for at least another month, had Brian’s phone not gone off when he was taking a shower.

I’d been going over blueprints of another customer's car when the phone went off. Brian was in the shower and the phone had been sitting right next to me. I’d been curious and stupid. I picked up the phone and answered the call.

“O’Conner?” A deep voice demanded in a slow almost drawl.

“Nope, he’s in the shower. Message?” I asked, hoping this was some link to the guy’s past. 

“Who are you?” Oh, the whole sticking your throat out to get information? Yeah, classic racer trait.

“Jordan Bran. I’m fixing up a car that Brian brought in. You?”

“Dom Toretto. And where’s O’ Connor?”

“I told you . . . “ Brian ripped the phone from me and hit the end button. I froze. This was not going to be good. 

“Who was it?” He asked angrily and like he was in pain.

“Dom Toretto.” I whispered. “Was he the person you let go?” Brian only nodded at my words. “I didn’t tell him where we are. I’m sorry.” My words were like glass piercing his skin and wouldn’t feel until later.  
$ $ $  
One month later

Brian had taken up racing. The car was almost completely recognizable, even in my garage. Nobody had taken it for a test drive yet. That would be because, I spent all my time repairing the car, worrying over Brian, trying to get him to eat or debating on whether I should call Dom. Hey, it was that or sign Brian into a hospital. The guy was skin and bones by now, because he refused to eat more than necessary keep from collapse. And that was mostly from me threatening to take away his keys. Also, the car that he was driving? That was mine. And then, there were the nightmares. My point is that Brian was very close to hitting rock bottom.

Finally, I called Dom.  
$ $ $

I’d stolen Brian’s phone while he was in the shower and simply dialed the number. He answered on the first ring. I’m guessing the only reason he hadn’t called back was no caller I.D.

“Brian?” He asked soft and dangerously.

“No, he’s out racing. I need your help. The guy’s one more missed meal from a hospital. So, yeah, we’re in Mexico.” There was a long pause after my chopped out sentences.

“Where are you at?”

“Libertad de miedo.” Or in English, that’s freedom of fear. Its very ironic to me. You know, what with shotguns being carried publicly   
and underground car racing always going on.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Wow, that guy didn’t wast time on stupid questions or excuses. That’s good, because I would’ve flown up myself and dragged his ass down.


	4. Chapter 4

I left Brian by himself for the day while I went to pick Dom up from the airport. I didn’t tell Brian where I was going and I took all car keys with me. I was worried that Dom and Brian would fight it out when I got back. Worry later, do now.

I met him at the airport. Honestly, he wasn’t that hard to find. He was bald, muscular and looking like a complete badass. I waved him over and mentally decreased my life line.

“Ash?” He asked.

“Yep, I’m the chick that just lost at least 50 years off her life!” I said with a grin. “And you’re Dom Toretto?” I asked, hoping that I hadn’t just picked up a total random stranger. Talk about awkward.

“Yes, where’s O’Conner?” He asked, right on cue.

“I didn’t exactly tell him that you were coming. He’d freak and run away and frankly its not a sound plan.” See, I can speak like I’m smart when, I want to.

“So food, then?” Dom didn’t care if he offended me. That’s good because I didn’t care about a long term relationship, like a girly girl here. I just wanted to get everybody happy endings.

We ended up talking shop at a Chinese restaurant. After that, we took car trip back to my place, which was a good couple of hours away. We kept all topics away from the pasts, Brian and other such touchy topics. Add that to lengthy silences and somehow the trip wasn’t extremely awkward. I have no clue how it turned out that way.

Anyways, we managed to get to my new house before nine at night. I take this as a good thing since a car was parked haphazardly in my front yard. All I could think was

“At least I don’t garden” as I grabbed a .45 and slipped easily up to my own door. I knew that nobody had heard or seen us since, all the shades were pulled tightly closed and my motor didn’t resemble a tank in noise level. I felt, rather than heard, Dom sneak up behind me with a shot gun. That had probably been under the seat with the safety on. I’m not stupid enough to leave a fully loaded gun off safety resting under my legs. I like walking.

I creeped underneath the front window as Dom went up to the front door. Before he could kick it in, I spotted my friend Sophie on the couch with a tray of medical things. Damn. Hastily, I signaled Dom not to barge in there guns blazing. He gave me this look, but didn’t protest as I calmly walked up beside him and unlocked the front door.

“Sophie, what are you doing here?” I asked, keeping the .45 out and safety off.

“Some driver got hurt in an explosion and I heard tell that you’d been letting some hottie hang with you sooo . . . “ That was true Sophie.

“Dom meet Sophie. I met her down at a race, crazy here, wanted to bet against them mafia. That made us close. How bad is he?” I asked, getting back to the problem at hand.

“Back’s badly singed, as well as hands and arms. I doped him high to the clouds and he’s out. Also, I gave him several shots along with the happy pills.”

“Where is he and who got him burnt?” I was so hoping that this wasn’t a suicide attempt. ‘Cause if it was, house arrest, buddy.”

“I don’t know. His ride got burnt and nobody hit him. Hell, nobody could touch him with the way he was driving. He just hit into a solid building and boom. I think he slowed down seconds before and jumped. He’s upstairs.”

“Thanks. You should go now. Watch your back.”

“You too.” Sophie left at those words.

I grabbed the medical try and kit and jugged up the steps. Dom was right behind me. I entered Brian’s bedroom. I think Sophie knew which one it belonged to by the single bag stashed up against the wall. Brian was laying on the bed on his stomach. Bandages covered a good proportion of his back, then stopped at his jeans. His arms and hands were bandages up to his shoulders.

I glanced over at Dom and he seemed to be in a state of shock. I realized that he hadn’t said a word since we checked out the house. I hope I hadn’t been making a huge mistake by bringing him. The last thing the blonde needed was somebody kicking him when he was scraping along the rock bottom of this life.

“Dom, help me get him down to the basement.” I hastily placed the med kit on the bed and lifted one side of the mattress up. Dom, keeping that brooding macho guy vibe perfectly, silently grabbed the other side and we made our way down the basement steps as awkwardly as possible. You know me, never missing as optionality like that. We lugged Brian off the mattress and onto a operating table. I was just thanking the gods that Blondie was out cold when, he woke up. You see what happens when, I start praying? Yeah, there are several reason why me and Lucy know each-other so well.

Brain, however didn’t catch my humor. He pushed away with his hands and tried to roll backwards off the table to defend himself. I say tried because Dom pressed down on Brian’s shoulders, trying to keep him still. Again keyword: try. Please insert Yoda quote________here.

Brian freaked out more. Huh, didn’t think that was possible, right? He kicked out, slamming his legs into Dom’s gut. Ouch. Me? I was busy trying to find something to nock the guy out with. Finally, I pressed a syringe into Brian’s neck. The blonde’s eyes drooped almost at once. Dom let go of Brain’s shoulders slowly, waiting for him to make another brake for it.

I pulled up a tray and a wheely chair to the table. I pulled the chain down and lit up the room with the hanging light bulb that hung from the ceiling. The basement was creepy and looked like a bad imitation of a hospital with the table, trays, sink and cabinets.

Next, I laid out a burn kit and several other “things”. Those things were petrie dishes, surgical scissors, more shots, cloth towels and alcohol. Yes, I know how to use these things since, I’ve gotten in so many scrapes, it was something that I picked up. I love George for having the supplies in his basement. I think that he could’ve put them in the bathroom like a normal person. I’m guessing that he did and put basic things in the bathroom.

“Yo, push “PLAY” on the stereo.” I told Dom, putting my hair up, washing my hands and getting gloves on. Dom did as I asked and Sick Puppies “You’re Going Down” started blasting. Thank your Mama, I hate those silences that seemed to be frozen around you as nightmares leapt at you.

I grabbed the scissors and started cutting away at Brian’s clothing and bandages. I left the boxers on, knowing that O’Conner would reck my cars if I slipped his blues off. Especially since, Dom was there. That reminds me that O’Conner was driving my car when he crashed. Damn, I was ganna need to pick it up tomorrow at the track.

I started to tug a sheet over Brian when, Dom caught my arm. He was starring at the scars on Brian’s legs and lower back.  
$ $ $  
10 minutes later- because Dom is very impatient!!

 

“It’s probably nothin’.” I kept from hitting Dom as he made his twentieth pass around the garage. Barely.

“He didn’t have them before!”

“How would you know?” I grinned pervertadly at him

“It was hot in LA and Brian didn’t wear his pants grampa style.” Dom’s face turned an interestedly shade of rose. Huh, Italians can blush. Was he Italian? The guy looked more Mexican. This needed more thought.

A loud crash upstairs interrupted my internal debate about asking Dom about his inheritance. I starred at the ceiling. What now???!!

I grabbed a gun and stalked up the stairs. Shadows danced across the wall. There were five goons standing in my freaking living room!


	5. Chapter Five

I grabbed a gun and stalked up the stairs. Shadows danced across the wall. There were five goons standing in my freaking living room!

I shot 3 bullets at them before they realized that their cover was blown. I dived behind the puke green couch(never let George decorate) Bullets punctured the couch around me. Stuffing flew over the floor(Dom was soooo cleaning that up later, not me).

The door crashed open once again. I risked a glance over the couch. George was framed in the doorway with a shotgun. I kinda love that man in a daughterly way. I grabbed another handgun from the mantel piece and stood up.

"Hey, what are you doing letting my house be overrun by Mexicans?" George smirked while the last two Mexicans faced us back to back in a Mexican stand off. Get it?

"Berlin, Georgie, Berlin." He shut up at that.

I looked over toward the stairs at the sounds of foot steps. O'Connor walked up them, wearing only his blues. He walked over the fridge calm as you please. He grabbed a milk carton and gulped it down in five gulps. Huh, I needed to get more milk, then.

Dom sprinted up the stairs and stared at the room at large. The two Mexicans, George and Me, and O'Conner more or less naked. "What the hell? I turn my back for one minute, Brian an-and . . ."

We all stared at the man like he was the crazy one, even the Mexicans.

 

$ $ $  
10 minutes later, we had tied the Mexicans up and thrown them out on the opposite side of the road. Everybody else but me was sitting at the kitchen table. I was standing beside the counter mixing cake batter.

"Okay, Bri' why didn't you find me after the jail break like you said you would?" Dom's voice finally rang out, breaking the awkward silence. Maybe, now George would stop giving me puppy eyes for his favorite coffee.

"I got caught. Um, they locked me up for passtrassing on private property for six weeks. After that, I thought you were long gone or didn't want a cop." Brian muttered the last sentence. I glared at Dom.

You break the puppy, you fix the puppy. Ah, not in the way of actual puppies . . .

"What about the nightmares?" I asked softly.

"I . . .shit happens in prison. I don't wanna talk about it. . ." Dom nodded at Blondie's words.

"I would never leave you, Brian. I*clears throat* love you."

"Like a brother?" I nearly facepalmed.

"Like a boyfriend."

"Oh." George did face palmed here. There was a lengthy pause. "I love you too, Dom!"

The two men smiled at each other from across the table. George made a face. "Are those Mexicans still available for torture?"

"You know how Roe wants you to be more feely?"

"Yeahhh?"

"Enjoy the moment." I said firmly.

"But . . ."

"Shh, just let it happen. . ." I said waving a gun around as Dom and Blondie headed upstairs. Just let it happen. . .

THE END

Not really: two hours later after very loud sounds

"Jordan, do you still have recording devices in all the rooms?"

"Yeah. I was already thinking about what to get Mario for his birthday."

George smirked over his Vodka Coffee and pink cake, "You're evil."

"I know. It works out great." I sliced up another piece of my pink cake.

 

THE ACTUAL END

Explanations and dedications:  
This was started after watching the first movie and not seeing the second. The second was freaking weird and the third left anything angsty out. Oh yes, why don't I not kill you after you destroyed my family. So yeah.

This is dedicated to Sarah, my beta for her birthday. She wanted me to finish this for her present after I made her watch the first movie. She is sooo Dom its quite creepy at times. I know she just smirked at me in my head.

The last part was about another character of mine, Mario. He's gay. If that helps fill in the blanks. Please remeber that the characters Mario, George, Jordan(aka Ash Cassidy) belong to me and me only. Hopefully, they'll be in their own published legally novel soon.

I picture Dom and Brian on a beach together years from now, after they killed me several times.

End.


End file.
